


Goin My Way

by FarenMaddox



Category: Cardcaptor Sakura, Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Child Abuse, Crossdressing, Mental Health Issues, Military, Physical Disability
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-19
Updated: 2012-11-19
Packaged: 2017-11-19 00:42:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/567109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FarenMaddox/pseuds/FarenMaddox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurogane is a member of the Air Force and he's just returned wounded from Afghanistan.  Fai is an illustrator and webcomic artist who sometimes hears things that aren't there.  Maybe this relationship shouldn't work, but it does.  And if they try hard enough, they just may be the perfect couple to adopt a child coming out of an abusive home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Goin My Way

“Are you gonna go my way?” Lenny Kravitz asked.  Kurogane absently asked along with him, although his fingers were already searching for something better on the radio.  The windows were cracked, the breeze ruffling his hair.  Life felt pretty good today.  
  
_“Goin’ my way, soldier?”_  
  
He’d been thinking about electric blue eyes and a Colgate smile for the past 15 months.  He really should stop that.  
  
_“Good luck, soldier boy.  Come home.”_  
  
Kurogane’s hand crept over the side of his neck, the whisper of warm breath still vivid there.  He didn’t believe in luck and certainly didn’t believe you got it from kisses that fell from pale pink lips . . . But somehow, he’d come home when he shouldn’t have.  
  
_“Well . . . are you goin’ my way or what?”_  
  
“Damn, I seriously need to get laid,” Kurogane muttered, pulling his hand back down to the steering wheel and shaking his head at himself.  He wasn’t going back to that bar tonight.  That would just be stupid.  
  
The truck bounced over a pothole, and the world went briefly to hell.  
  
Kurogane came back to his senses after only a couple of seconds and found that he’d done no major damage.  He was straddling two lanes with the pickup, his knuckles white on the steering wheel, and his leg was throbbing with an urgency that begged for drugs, but at least he hadn’t hit anyone.  He got back in his own lane and let out a very deep breath, nice and slow.  
  
He had to get a grip.  
  
The clinical psychologist at the VA hospital, Touya Kinomoto by name, was one of the few people that Kurogane was inclined to listen to, and Dr. Kinomoto kept telling him it would take time.  Coming back from Afghanistan wasn’t as simple as getting on an airplane, and Kurogane wasn’t supposed to blame himself if he couldn’t get a handle on things right away.  
  
He glanced over at the sheaf of papers on the passenger side of the pickup’s cab.  A bunch of medical jargon explaining that he had PTSD—no shit, Sherlock—a schedule of visits he was supposed to make to the hospital, the paperwork he needed to file with the local college so he could sign up for classes.  Also in that folder was a laundry list of prescriptions he was supposed to pick up tomorrow.  Pain pills, obviously, because he had six months of physical therapy to look forward to before his leg was going to be anything like normal again.  Anti-anxiety and anti-depression medication.  Muscle relaxers if he needed them.  Sleeping pills if he needed those.  And he was supposed to see Kinomoto every day for the next four weeks, because that was the only way the doc was going to believe Kurogane didn’t plan to swallow every single damn one of those pills at the same time and call it quits.  
  
Fuck that.  He’d go see the doc because it was required of him, but Kurogane was not a person who quit.  Ever.  He was the only person who’d made it out of the Jeep when it rolled over and they got caught in the crossfire, and it was a friendly bullet that had nearly taken out his left leg—and it would be fucking disrespectful to the others if he didn’t do his best now.  They’d died, he’d lived, so it was all on him now, right?  
  
That probably meant he had to do well in college, too.  Damn.  School had never been his favourite thing.  
  
Classes didn’t start for two weeks, and Kurogane had been told he should go home.  Kinomoto had ever-so-politely suggested it, with that narrow-eyed thing he did.  He should see his family, make up with them if he could.  It would be good for him.  
  
Seriously, if Kurogane figured out who’d told the doc about him pitching a fit when his parents tried to visit the hospital, he was going to strangle them with his bare hands.  If he didn’t want to see them, that was his own business.  He was going to spend those two weeks just hanging out here, moving into the apartment he’d found and getting settled in.  
  
_“Goin my way, soldier?”_  
  
He wasn’t going back to the bar, though.  Because that would be really, really stupid.  
  


* * *

 

“Yeah, youuuu, you shook me aaaaallll niiiight loooong~”

“Still playing the same fucking song, really?” Kurogane muttered to himself as he took a seat at the bar, twisting sideways on the stool to let his bum leg stick out beside him.  He gripped his cane with indecision before he leaned it against the bar and let go.

Yeah, he was back at the bar.  Because he was an idiot.

“Jack and Coke,” he told the bartender.

“ID?”

“Dammit,” he muttered, shifting to get his wallet out of his back pocket without putting weight on the leg.

_“Sorry, dude, I’m just here for some hot wings.  I’m not legal yet.”_

_A fierce look from hawkish eyes, and the bartender shook his head.  “You’re old enough to go out there and fight for my freedom, you’re old enough to drink.  What’ll it be?”_

_“Heh.  Jack and Coke, then, I guess.”_

_“And a basket of hot wings?”_

_“Yeah.  Thanks.”_

He’d been twenty-one for all of three weeks.  This was his first time doing this legal.  Maybe if he’d left the uniform on, this guy would have just given him the damn drink.

He toyed with the idea of hot wings, but after all the fucking meds he’d been on—and the night terrors that made him puke a few times a week—his stomach was rebelling against the idea.  Maybe he’d just drink this really quickly and go back to the apartment.  Because really, what the hell was he doing here?

_“Well, it’s not like I know the exact day.  I’m getting back sometime in August next year.”_

_“You’re going make me go back to that dumpy bar every day for a month to look for you?”_

_“Nobody asked you to.  How the hell do you even know if you’ll still live here next year?  Don’t you artist-types always move to New York or something?”_

_Fuck, you couldn‘t get enough of that smile.  It was blinding.  “I like a quiet life.”_

A couple of assholes took the seats next to him and one of them knocked his cane over.  The clatter was way more noticeable than it should have been and for a second it felt like the whole bar was looking at him.  Which was stupid, they weren’t.  Doc had warned him about this.

“Watch it, would you?”

“Sorry, dude,” one of them tossed over his shoulder, not paying attention long enough to notice the way Kurogane gripped his hands tight into fists and breathed out deep before letting it go.  He stared down at his cane on the floor.  It wasn’t like he could just bend down to grab it.  This was going to be complicated.

A pale-skinned hand scooped it up and handed it to him, and for a second his stomach jolted.  His eyes scrambled up to the face of the person holding out his cane, then twisted in . . . ah, fuck, was he really disappointed?

“Are you okay?” asked the young woman with the white dress and the coral lipstick.  “This is yours, right?”

“Yeah, thanks,” he muttered, taking the cane back.  He stuck it between his knees this time.

_“Goin’ my way, soldier?”_

_“Davis!” the panicked shout came from further back, at one of the big tables in the corner.  A tall, slender blond came rushing over and yanked the little brunette off him.  “Davis, you moron, that is an actual person in the military!”_

_The little brunette’s wide eyes traveled up him and he swallowed nervously.  “Uh.  Sorry.”_

_The blond shoved the little one away.  “Just— just go sit down, Davis.”  Blue eyes.  God, he had beautiful eyes.  “I’m really sorry about that.  There’s this convention in town and he thought you were just cosplaying, and he’s also kind of drunk . . . Can I buy you a drink to make up for it?  And if you really just have to beat up a queer guy, I’d rather you beat me up than Davis.”_

_“What the fuck?  I don’t even know where to start.  At least that explains why you’re wearing the dumbest outfit I’ve ever seen.  What are you supposed to be?”_

_Teeth flashed, and in the dim bar light, he realized he’d never seen such a heartbreaker smile.  “It’s anime, I really doubt you—”_

_“See?  That right there.  What the fuck?  First you think that just cause I’m in the Army, I’m going to beat up a gay guy for hitting on me, and then you just assume I don’t know what anime is.”_

_His face flushed to the tips of his ears.  “Yeah . . . You know what?  I am really, really, really sorry.”_

_“It’s fine,” he muttered.  “Plus you get points for trying to protect that guy.”_

_“I kind of have to.  Davis is my new assistant.”_

_“Assistant of what?” he asked, despite himself._

_“Ah . . .”  A hand rose up and scratched through messy blond hair sheepishly.  “I’m an artist.  I have this really popular web comic, that’s why I’m at the con, actually, I have a booth where I’m selling my book.  I got a contract to illustrate this series of kids’ books a couple of months ago, so I had to hire Davis to start doing the backgrounds and lettering for the comic.  So, yeah, that’s enough about me, because you totally didn’t want to know that.  I’m just going to go back to my seat now and leave you the hell alone, and did I mention how sorry I am about all this?”_

_He almost let him go, but then he didn’t.  “Hey.  What about that drink?”_

_Maybe he’d just wanted one last look at those eyes, which went wide in surprise.  “Really?  You’re, uh, not mad or anything? I mean, Davis totally grabbed your ass, and I will really not blame you if you—”_

_“Which is why I will be a lot happier if Davis stays over there at his table and draws backgrounds for you or something.  But you can stay.”_

_“Are you . . .”  The eyes flicked around the room.  “You don’t have like six army buddies watching right now and waiting for the signal to drag me out to the parking lot and kick the shit out of me, right?”_

_“What the fuck, seriously?”_

_“Sorry, it’s just . . . happened.  Before.  To me.  I mean, not with guys in the army, it was back in college, but you know, it’s just . . .”_

_“Oh.  Shit, sorry.  No, I just . . . Would you sit down and have a drink with me?  All the dancing around is making me nervous.”_

_“Okay.  Um.  As long as you don’t mind that it’s ginger ale, because I sort of don’t actually drink.”_

_“Heh.  Why would I mind?  It’s none of my business.”_

_“You’re a weird guy . . . Hey, what’s your name?”_

_“Kurogane.”_

_“Cool name.  I’m Fai.”_

_“Yeah?  Nice to meet you.  You should tell me more about this comic of yours, because believe it or not, I’m interested.”_  
  
Someone sat down on Kurogane’s other side.  He didn’t even bother looking up, nursing his drink because he was stuck in his memory and reluctant to finish this and leave.  It was the last good thing that had happened to him.  Fifteen months later, it was still good enough that he’d come back to this stupid bar.

“You weren’t going to ignore me all night, were you soldier boy?”

How the hell did they know he was a solider?  He was in civvies—

He snapped his head up.  “Fuck me, it’s you.”

He still had the most perfect smile.  “Well spotted.”

“You haven’t actually been coming in here every day, have you?” he blurted out, then lowered his face over his drink with embarrassment and refused to meet—beautiful, fucking beautiful—blue eyes.

“The new bartender is a friend of mine,” he grinned.  “I told him to call me if an extraordinarily tall man with red eyes and military hair showed up.  You’re late, Kurogane.  You said August.”

“You remembered my name.”

“Are you upset?” he asked, putting his chin in his hand and trailing his eyes over Kurogane’s face, his smile fading.  “You don’t seem like you wanted me to remember.  Or to be here.”

“No, I did!  I just—hoped you wouldn’t—ah, fuck, that came out wrong— look, the thing is— I’m a little messed up now.  So.”

His hands had started gripping his cane without him noticing it.  Fai’s eyes followed the tense lines of muscle in his arms down to his hands, though, and the blue eyes went soft and concerned.

“You got hurt?”

“I— yeah.”

“Well . . .” Fai’s forehead pinched in thought, and then his smile returned, easy and smooth.  “You need another drink, looks like.  Why don’t I get you one, and we can just keep talking for a while?  I’m not expecting anything, I promise.”

Kurogane couldn’t remember why he’d come here.  He couldn’t think of a way to talk to Fai anymore.  It had seemed easy, fifteen months ago.  Now, having a drink with him seemed like too much.  The room was too hot, too crowded, and there was an itch on his back.  Someone was watching him.  Oh fuck, this was dangerous, something was wrong—

No.  No, that was the anxiety.  Breathe out.  Nice and deep.  Coming home from Afghanistan isn’t as simple as getting on a plane, Kurogane, or so says the wisdom of Touya Kinomoto.  This is just stress because you’re bad at flirting.  Fucking get a grip.

“Hey,” Fai said quietly, breaking eye contact to let him have his space.  “If you want to go somewhere else, someone quieter, let me know.”

“I don’t— fuck.  It’s just— the only place I feel really good in right now is my apartment, but I don’t want to say ‘let’s go back to my place’ because I can’t just jump back into what we—”

“Okay,” Fai said simply.

“Okay?”

“Okay, let’s go back to your place.  We’ll just chill out, we could put on a movie or something, and we can talk a little, if you want.  Then I’ll go home.  Sound good?”

Kurogane gaped at him.  “Yeah.  It does.”

_“So show me something,” Kurogane insisted, now on his third drink of the night and feeling loose and relaxed.  “I want to see your artwork.”_

_Fai laughed, pulled a pen from his pocket, and snagged a napkin.  He started sketching.  “You know, I didn’t ask you to prove what you do for a living.  Show me your marksmanship!”_

_“Ah, it’s not what I want to do for a living or anything.  But if I do a tour of duty, they’ll pay for college.  Right now all I’m doing is working for my dad.”_

_Something must have gone across his face, because Fai looked up from his sketch.  “You don’t like the work?”_

_“It’s not bad.  It’s just . . . I’m not getting along with the old man so much, these days.”_

_If you could call it that.  If you could say “not getting along” when what you meant was Dad caught you with porn, and it was not a woman in the centrefold.  When Dad freaked, and you suspected his anger wasn’t really because you’re gay but mostly because you never told him and obviously never planned to , and if it was probably your fault the fight escalated like it did.  Especially when you goaded him into calling you a fucking girl, and somehow joining the military to prove otherwise had seemed like a good idea.  Now it just kind of seemed like overkill.  Still, college was going to be paid for.  That was something._

_“Anyway, lemme see.”_

_The napkin was plucked from Fai’s grasp with a squawk of protest.  “I wasn’t done!”_

_It looked like some ancient Japanese samurai, with heavy armor and with a sword in his hand.  Another sword poked up from behind his back.  No helmet, though, instead a spiky mess of pen-ink hair.  No mistaking the size and the hair._

_“Please tell me that is not supposed to be me.”_

_“Uh . . . Are you okay with me lying, then?”_

_“Tch.  No.  Anyway, it’s not bad.  I guess you really are an artist.”_

_“Thanks so much,” Fai said huffily._

_“No, really, you’re good.  Can I buy one of your books?”_

_“If only I’d brought one with me,” Fai grinned.  “I’m just shocked you would want a book, Muscles.”_

_“Hey!”  He scowled.  “Stop underestimating me.”_

_Fai’s smile went softer.  “I did, didn’t I?  You are pretty awesome, Kurogane.”_

_“Tch.  I wasn’t asking for flattery, either.  I’m not that great.”_

_Fai’s eyebrow lifted.  “You must not have seen yourself in a mirror recently, Muscles.  Guy that looks like you and is also not a huge douche bag is hard to come by.  You’re just about too good to be true.”_

_“Are you flirting with me?”_

_“Why, is it working?” Fai teased, fluttering his eyelashes._

_“Maybe.”  Otherwise known as fuck yes._

_He seemed surprised for a minute, but then he smiled again.  “You know, I should get back over to my group.  Sorry again about the whole ass-grabbing thing.  And thanks for not being a meat-headed moron like most of the military guys around here and not beating up anybody.”_

_“Hey,” Kurogane said, his throat thick.  “You don’t . . . have to leave.  Unless you really want to.”_

_Fai hadn’t even stood up yet, but now he shifted nervously.  “Um.”  His eyes flew wide.  “Oh my god, you’re shipping out tomorrow, aren’t you?”_

_“Yes?”_

_“This isn’t like, some ‘last night’ thing, is it?  You came here because you really wanted to get laid, didn’t you?  And there aren’t any pretty single gals around tonight, and— I am not going to be your going-away fuck,” he said firmly.  “For your information—”  He wore a wicked smirk, his eyelids lowered, and he leaned over, ghosted his lips close to Kurogane’s ear.  “I like to top.”_

_He started to go back to his seat, leaving Kurogane stunned both by the blond’s ability to turn into a completely different person for a second, and by the sudden rush of blood heading south._

_“Hey!” he said, stumbling up from his seat, catching Fai only a few steps away and grabbing him by the arm.  His companions over at the table all stood up, faces alarmed.  “What if that’s what I wanted?” he growled, putting his mouth right up to Fai’s cheek and running his free hand down the small of the man’s back._

_Fai broke his grip and whirled around.  Kurogane let him.  “What are you doing?”_

_“I came here for some hot wings, by the way, getting laid was not the plan.  You just happened to be here and be really sexy.  I’m gay, you moron.  I was trying to . . . Fuck, I’m not really good at this yet.  I haven’t . . .  I’ve never dated or anything . . .”_

_“I am imagining this,” Fai said woodenly.  “I have been staring at you since you walked in and there is no way you are actually interested in me.  This is not real.  Magnificently hot soldier boy with the good sense of humour is not only gay, but a virgin.  This is not actually happening to me.”_

_“Do you have to say virgin that loud?” he muttered through clenched teeth._

_Fai’s smile was like something out of the movies.  “Oh my god, it is my birthday.”_

_“You know what?  Never mind.  You’re a moron.  I’m going to finish my drink and get out of here.”_

_Fai followed him back to his seat.  “I am usually not this bad at reading people, by the way.”_

_“Leave me the fuck alone.”_

_“I can’t.  You are just way too pretty to be left defenseless at a bar.  I think I need to take you home so I can protect your innocence. Or steal it.  Or something.”_

_“I don’t want you to.  Idiot.”_

_Fai straddled his lap.  Right there on the bar stool, in front of his friends and the bartender who was giving out illegal drinks, and all the other people.  He kissed Kurogane full on the mouth, his hand cupping the back of his head.  “Are you sure?” he breathed against Kurogane’s cheek.  Then he smirked and let his eyes slip down to where Kurogane’s body was betraying him.  “You don’t seem sure.”_

_“Fuck.  Don’t get up.  Fuck.”_

_He did.  He got up, and he started sauntering away. Then he turned around with his hip cocked.  “Well solider . . . are you goin’ my way or what?”_

_“Yes.  Fuck.”  He slapped some money down on the bar, just in case the tab wasn’t caught up, and they just left Davis the assistant and Fai’s other friends standing there in shock._

_He hadn’t gone to the bar to lose his virginity, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to complain about it._  


 

* * *

  
“So this is my place.  It’s uh, messy.  I haven’t finished moving in yet.”

“So long as it has a couch and a television,” Fai said brightly.  “You can give me a real tour when you get around to— hey, how are you unpacking everything with a bad leg?”

“Slowly,” he said with a grimace.

“You want some help?  I’m kind of a disorganized nut job, you know, but I can probably follow directions if you—”

“What?  Why?  Fuck, why are you even here right now?”

Fai frowned and looked hurt and worried.  “I don’t understand.  We said that we’d try to find each other again when you came home, and we did.  If you’re not interested anymore, that’s fine, but I—”

“No, please!  I am.  I am interested.  I just, this is stupid.  For you, I mean.  We flirted in a bar and we had sex, but if you want to be with me right now, it’s not going to be easy.  I’m not— things happened to me.  And it’s going to be a while before my leg works or before I adjust or anything.  That’s why I didn’t show up in August, you know, the VA hospital had me for a month.  And one night shouldn’t have you willing to help me unpack . . . I just.  It makes no sense that you want to be here.”

Fai stepped forward, put his hands behind Kurogane’s back to draw him close, and leaned up to kiss him.  “It was a really, really good night.  I’ve never connected with someone like I did with you, and I’ve thought about you every day.  You told me not to underestimate you, remember?”

“Yeah.”

“So now I’m telling you: you shouldn’t underestimate me, either.”

_“Good luck, soldier boy.  Come home.”_

_“I’ll try.”_

_“Try hard.  I’ll be waiting.”  
_  
“Okay,” Kurogane said painfully.  “As long as we can take things slow, then okay.”

Fai pecked his lips again and let him go.  “Perfect.  Let’s go sit down.  We can talk about unpacking next time.”


End file.
